Authors: Diane Morlan
Tags: #thriller, #suspense, #murder, #murder mystery, #midwest, #amateur sleuth, #female sleuth, #detective, #cozy mystery, #coffee, #sleuth, #minnesota, #cozy, #knitting, #crochet, #coffee roaster, #fairs, #state fairs, #county fairs
“Okay. Enough. I’m moving
out. My lawyer will contact your lawyer. I’m using Dyson &
Dyson. You should call Erickson, Lowe and Jones. They’d be a good
firm for you.” He picked up an overnight bag, which I hadn’t notice
him bringing down the stairs and walked out the front
door.
I followed him, still not
believing what was happening. “Don’t you tell me who my lawyer
should be. In fact, don’t you ever tell me anything again. From now
on, I’ll be doing as I damn please, just like you’ve always
done.”
“Fine. My lawyer is setting
up a little allowance for you. Don’t run up a lot of charges,
though. Also, you had better start looking for a real job. I don’t
plan to get stuck with the bills from your coffee hobby after I’m
gone. And you’d better start looking for a place to live. I’m
putting the house on the market today.” Edwin tossed his bag into
his silver Mazda Miata. That flashy new car should’ve been a
tip-off. I sure could be dense at times.
I had seldom stood up to
Edwin. But he’d never left me before, either. There was more to it
than that. Why hadn’t I cried, I thought? I had been pissed but not
sad or heartbroken.
Since we moved to Hermann,
I felt comfortable in my hometown, while Edwin believed he’d been
banished to the boondocks. That must be where I got the gumption to
stand up to him. And his feelings must be the reason he felt the
need to cheat on me. As I sat there trying to take it all in, a
sense of relief had washed over me. Now sadness clutched my heart
as I remembered our first years together when we were young and in
love.
I knew I needed to get over
the feelings of abandonment and get on with my life. Okay, so Edwin
never qualified for the perfect husband award. An overbearing
control freak, he made all the decisions for the family. I seldom
question his decisions. He had often let me know my opinion didn’t
matter to him.
“I earn the money to
support this family, Jennie. You just stay home with the kids. You
don’t have any idea of what happens in the real world.”
He was a good father. The
kids and I never went without anything. But his word was law and
he’d make a proclamation then slap his hand on the table to stress
the point.
I sat down, put my feet up,
and thought about my marriage. I hadn’t thought of it as being much
different from anyone else’s marriage. Edwin acted much like my
father, except Edwin didn’t go to work drunk and get fired. When
the shock of his leaving wore off, I took a good look at my life
and decided life was much easier without him. But I also felt as if
somehow I had failed. And sometimes I got so lonely.
Shaking off these
contradictory feelings, I made myself a promise to go shopping
soon. After Edwin and I met with the divorce mediator next week,
I’d decorate this place so it would be homier. Or maybe I wouldn’t
renew my lease. I could go out and find a house to fit my
personality. Not this sterile little box.
This place was nice, well
maintained, and had absolutely no character. The house Edwin and I
had purchased here in Hermann was new but inside it had the feel of
a farm house. Big rooms, lots of wood and windows. I had decorated
all the rooms in a traditional style and, except for the formal
living room which we never used, it felt homey and comfortable. I
mostly missed my bathroom. The master bedroom had an amazing
bathroom. Two sinks, a walk-in shower surrounded in glass with four
shower heads and a deep two person Jacuzzi tub. I could have lived
in there.
Feeling lonely, I made a
quick call to my friend, Megan. Her phone rang and finally went to
voice mail. I hung up. She was probably talking to her current
boyfriend. I sent a text message to her cell phone for her to call
me when she got a chance.
After showering off the
fest dust, I donned my Sponge Bob sleep shirt and curled up with my
current book, a Joanne Fluke mystery.
Trying to forget Bernie’s
problems and feeling sorry for myself I ate a chocolate chip cookie
I had bought at the Fest. I read the same page twice without
comprehending anything. I couldn’t stop worrying about Bernie. Sure
she was tough; she stood up for people all the time. But, she
practically ran off tonight. It was so unlike her. There was more
going on than she was willing to tell me. I worried for her
safety.
I vowed to call her
tomorrow and grill her about this Wes guy. I’d also ask Trudy if
she could tell me anything she knew about him. At least I could
find out his last name. Maybe I’d have a little talk with him,
too.
I clicked off the
television, which I wasn’t watching anyway and was about to go to
bed when the phone rang. Thinking it must be Megan, I picked up the
receiver and said, “Hi, I’m sure glad you called.”
“Well, I’m glad, you’re
glad,” answered a woman’s voice that wasn’t Megan.
“Who is this?” I
asked.
Laughing the lady answered,
“It’s Laura from the Biergarten Restaurant in Mankato.”
“I’m so sorry, Laura. I
thought you were my neighbor. I’ve been waiting for her to return
my call.”
“That’s okay, Jennifer. I’m
sorry to call so late, but I have a favor to ask of
you.”
“What can I do for
you?”
“I have a favor to ask of
you. I saw this fantastic German beer stein in Hermann a couple
weeks ago. And like an idiot, I didn’t buy it. I’ve been thinking
about it ever since and I just have to have it! I know I saw it in
Hermann but I can’t remember where. Can you help me?’
“I’m sure I can, Laura,” I
said, thinking about how much extra work this might entail. “What
does it look like?”
“It’s the coolest stein
I’ve ever seen! It’s a Coca-Cola stein with a scene from an
old-fashioned ice cream soda fountain on it. It looks like an old
German beer stein. If I email you a picture could you look for it
for me?”
“Well, I guess I can try,”
I said without much enthusiasm.”
“Listen, Jennifer, I know
this is an imposition on you. If you can do this for my I’d love to
have you and a friend come down here for a Surf and Turf dinner for
two.”
That perked me up. I love
lobster. “Surf and turf doesn’t sound very German to me. When did
you put that on your menu?”
“A few months ago. We’re
the best restaurant in Worthington and people like to come here for
special occasions. So, we added a few special items to the menu. Do
you like Steak and lobster?”
“
You betcha. What kind of
turf?”
“Only the best Filet
Mignon. Does that motivate you?
“Absolutely! I’d be glad to
give it a try, Laura.” Now that’s the kind of motivation I liked.
“Send me the picture and description and I’ll see what I can do.
Also, can you list the places you went to on the day you saw it?
That will give me some place to start looking.”
“I’ll email you the details
right away. I have to think about where I was. Seems to me I was
all over town.”
“Well, do your best, Laura
and I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thanks, Jennifer, I really
appreciate this.”
Laura’s email came through
in just a few minutes. I printed it out along with the picture she
had attached. Laura was one of my best customers. Her German
restaurant was upscale and people drove from all over southern
Minnesota to dine there.
I looked at the picture of
the stein. It was lovely. I could understand why she wanted to add
it to her collection. She had over a hundred mugs and steins
displayed in her restaurant.
The list she sent me of the
places she went to the day she saw the stein wasn’t too long. I
went online to the Hermann Chamber of Commerce site to find the
addresses of the places Laura said she had visited the day she saw
the stein. I looked at the list Laura had sent me. Zeller’s
Antiques topped the list. There was a second-hand shop downtown,
Oma’s Attic. Also, Bavarian Haus, Glessener’s German Store, and
Messer’s Coins to Cups. List in hand, I was ready to begin my
search.
Somehow, I’d find time
tomorrow to start looking for this interesting stein. Maybe I could
get Bernie to come with me. I might be able to find out what was
bothering her. Dragging myself out of my easy chair, I shuffled off
to bed. Megan hadn’t called back and I wasn’t going to wait up for
her to get home. Lord only knew when that might be. My thoughts
turned to a steak and lobster dinner and I fell into a deep
sleep.
6
Friday
“Jennifer!” Jacobs’ deep
voice brought me back to the fest grounds and the shocking event of
finding a dead body this morning.
“Was Sister Bernadine’s car
here when you got back this morning?”
I had to admit it wasn’t.
“Randy is our mechanic and friend. Sister Bernadine must have
called him to come out and air up her tires.”
Jacobs took down Randy’s
name and phone number in his little notebook.
He looked down the gravel
drive running through the fairgrounds and watched a blue van
approach. It pulled up behind Jacobs’ car. A curvaceous young woman
in tight jeans and a blue shirt with the State of Minnesota emblem
over the pocket jumped out of the van and approached Detective
Decker. Over her long fingers, she donned a pair of latex gloves.
Grabbing her long blonde hair, she pulled it back and wrapped a
scrunchie around her ponytail. She gave Detective Decker a sexy
smile. “Hi, Jer, Where do you want us?”
Decker waved a hand toward
the building then followed her through the door. I heard him say,
“It’s Jerry, not Jer.”
The coroner came out, and
arrogantly strode towards his car. All he had to do was pronounce
the man dead. I could’ve done that an hour ago.
I waved to Bernie when I
saw her crossing the road near the grandstand, just down from the
Home Arts building.
Before I could say
anything, Detective Decker walked out of the Home Arts building and
made a beeline toward us. “Sister Bernadine?”
“Yes,” she said a puzzled
look on her face. “What’s going on?”
“I’m Detective Decker. I
need to ask you a few questions. Would you mind coming down to the
Sheriff’s Office with me?”
“I guess it would be
alright.” Looking at me she asked, “Has something
happened?”
Decker gently touched her
shoulder and guiding her toward the squad car, he said, “I’ll
explain everything. We need to go now.”
With that, Detective Decker
swooped her off to the Sheriff’s Office for questioning. Jacobs
left me sitting outside the Home Arts Building again while he
questioned a bunch of other people. I shamelessly eavesdropped as
Jacobs questioned Trudy’s husband Ray.
“Don’t you think it’s a
pretty big coincidence that Wes, a member of your band, was killed
right next to your wife’s booth?”
Ray replied, “I don’t know
what Wes was doing in there. Trudy had nothing to do with this. She
was with me.”
“When was she with you,
Ray?” Jacobs asked.
“All night. She came to the
big tent about nine o’clock to watch me play and we went home
together from there. We didn’t even stop to eat with the rest of
the band. Trudy was tired. It was a long day for her.”
“Where does the band
usually go to eat, Ray”
“The only place that’s open
at that time of night. Dottie’s Diner.”
“And all the other band
members went there last night?”
“I don’t know. We went
home. Trudy was tired.”
“What about you, Ray? Were
you tired, too? Or did you go out for a little drive after your
wife went to sleep?”
“No! I never left the house
until I came here this morning to drop her off. I don’t even start
playing until eleven.”
When he finished with Ray
he turned to a sandy-haired lanky young guy.
“Are you Bobby Reinhardt?”
Detective Jacobs asked.
Since they were a little
closer to me, I leaned forward, tipped my head down and put my hand
on my forehead. In this position, I could hear what was being said
and hoped I looked deep in thought instead of surreptitiously
listening.
Jacobs asked. “So, how well
did you know Wes?”
“Not very well.”
“Come on, Bobby. This is
Hermann, everybody knows everyone else here.”
“Yeah, well, I knew him. I
knew he was a jerk, but I didn’t hang with him or
anything.”
Jacobs made a note in his
little notebook. “Heard you two banged heads a couple
times.”
“Yeah. He was dancing with
my sister the other night and it pissed me off. She should know
better.”
“What should she
know?”
“That Wes is—was—an ex-con.
I don’t know why Bridget always goes after those types of
guys.”
“What type is that,
Bobby?”
“Bridget calls them bad
boys. I call them jerks.” Bobby’s lip curled on one
side.
“Okay. I heard you also had
some words with him about your girlfriend.”